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“Tis hours away, this pain will be nothing but a long memory.”

I passed him a mug with some ale and then the food was delivered to our room. We ate and drank as the day grew long, shadows darkening the room.

I made sure that the door was locked.

Then Torin said, “Goodnight, Princess…” as he fell asleep with Dude curled up beside him, barely leaving me room.

In the middle of the night I felt the bed shift. It was very dark, even though I had been growing used to the weird time-traveling-caused dimness and muffled sounds, my eyes had become more focused, my hearing more clear, but… this was natural darkness, unending, terrifying, the kind of darkness that made me pray for the moon.

I whispered, “Where are you going?”

“I heard something in the hall, I need tae go check.”

I said, “The good news is you heard it, your ears are better.”

“Aye, I can hear the corridor, tis an improvement.”

He stalked across the room, somehow able to see well enough. I focused on his back, my heart hammering in my chest, my body frozen in fear, while he stood quietly with his hand on the door. Listening.

Then he opened the door and went out.

Shit.

I lay there wondering what to do, lie here and go back to sleep? There was no way I would go back to sleep. I got up and crept across the room and stood where he had stood a moment before, and listened.

All I could hear was nothing, but it seemed like within it I could hear the presence of Torin right outside the door.

I waited for a long time and then when nothing happened I crept back to bed.

I was tense, watchful, frightened, until finally Torin slipped through the door, locked it behind him, and crept back to bed.

He climbed in beside me with barely a grunt and lay on his back. I curled along his arm, my mouth nestled beside his good shoulder. “What was it?”

“A drunk brawl went down in the courtyard and the guards left their station by our door. They hae now returned and the drunkards hae been put tae bed. All is well, good night, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Torin.”

24

ALEXANDRIA

1308 - I TRAIN MEDIEVAL MEN TO FLY A DRONE

The morning air was cold and damp when we stepped out through the main gate. Mist still clung low over the ground. Our horses stood ready a short distance away, Cathbarr and the smaller horse the king had given me. A stable boy was tying the last of our bags into place, moving quickly under Torin’s watchful eye.

Torin looked better than he had in the chamber the day before, but only barely. The bruise around his eye had darkened, and he still favored his left side. He kept close to me without touching.

Robert the Bruce, Douglas, and Niall were already waiting. The hard case sat open on a low stone with Dude sitting on it like he owned it. Beside it lay the two Glocks and the box of ammunition I had handed over.

The king gestured toward the weapons. “Show us.”

I swallowed. My hands felt unsteady. I had fired a gun before, but not enough to feel confident teaching anyone — especially not these three men.

“All right,” I said. “These are… called Glocks. They’re firearms. You load them like this.”

I picked up one of the pistols, ejected the magazine the way my Dad had shown me, and demonstrated sliding rounds into it. My fingers fumbled, drawing the notice of Douglas, but I played it off and what did I care if I embarrassed myself in front of medieval men?

“You push this in until it clicks. Then you pull the slide back — this part — and let it go. That puts a round in the chamber. After that you just point and pull the trigger.”